July 24

At about this time every year I like to look back at the first half of the season and compare it to previous years. It’s also interesting to take what’s being said by other fishermen in the area and nearby. I think we all have a natural tendency to view things as a reflection of our general outlook on just about everything, i.e., if you’re a “glass half full” kind of person you probably feel like it’s been a pretty good year so far; “glass half empty” types (grumpy New Englanders?!) might say something different. I find it hilarious to read the internet blab boards where basically NOTHING is ever good: too many small fish (where are the big ones? Are we in trouble?), too many big ones (where are all the schoolies? It’s just like the early 80s! Are we in trouble?), too many bluefish (where are all the bass? Are we in trouble?), not enough bluefish (too many people taking too many fish! Are we in trouble?).

So, not wanting to be alarmist and trying my best to keep things in perspective, here goes. If I ever get my act together and keep an accurate log I’m sure I could draw some conclusions at least based somewhat on actual data, but of course I never take the time. One of these days, I swear!

For myself and the people I know who fish regularly the striped bass fishing started about on schedule, if there is such a thing. I think I caught my first schoolie in Cotuit sometime in the last week of April or perhaps right around May 1. While some anglers certainly got fish before that they were mostly fishing in places that have holdover fish. Then things really got going by mid May. I am one of those who believe that sea lice on stripers indicate new arrivals and I started catching them pretty consistently about that time. These were small fish of course, but I was happy to find they weren’t the really small 12- to 14-inchers that I often see first – they were all fish in the low to mid 20-inch range. Lots of fun on my light spinning gear and I was very pleased to find my confidence in our new Skinny Hogys rewarded with some very nice sessions in Cotuit, Waquoit Bay and then on the Buzzards Bay side in West Falmouth, Megansett, Monk’s Park and Quisset Harbor. For some reason (gas prices?) I only fished the Onset area a couple times and didn’t do very well. Will definitely hit that area more in the fall.

Things really broke open in June. Big stripers began showing up and everyone was thrilled to report big schools of menhaden in all the harbors along the Buzzards Bay side. I view this as definitive proof that the coast-wide regulations limiting the reduction fishery for this prime forage species are working. Most of those fish only lingered for a couple weeks but I caught both my first big striper and my first bluefish of the season in Megansett under a school of pogies right around June 1. The bone 7-inch Hogy did the trick.

Then came that epic week, which I will never forget. A huge group of stripers from just legal size up to 30 and even 40 pounds took up residence off Mashnee Island near the west end of the canal. Over the course of five days I released better than a dozen fish over 20 pounds and two over 30, plus at least twice that many in the 28- to 36-inch range. Word gradually spread and conditions got crowded by the end – counted better than 30 boats in one small area toward the end of the event – but for a while those in the know had fishing that was as good as it gets on Cape Cod. It was the single best week of shore fishing I have ever experienced. Mike got in on it too, catching a bunch of fish in the same class and one that pushed 40 pounds.

Meanwhile, Mike also started fishing the Woods Hole area in his Maritime and caught fish every time he went out. We teamed up with our buddy Dave Peros with me in Dave’s boat and Andy Nabreski of On The Water in Mike’s boat and fished Middle Ground one very windy day and it was a great outing. Big stripers were pushing terrified squid out of the waves in the rip and if you could get the right presentation and your lure didn’t weed up too quickly you were rewarded with a hit or a fish on every cast. At about that time I started paddling the kayak over to Devils Foot in Woods Hole to fish from the shore and did very well. One evening while fishing next to OTW editor Kevin Blinkoff I watched him connect with a 36-inch fish inside the island and land it on his light gear. A great evening, which was followed by a few more in the month of June at that spot.

In early July we started to hear reports of tuna at Stellwagen and a few east of Chatham. Mike immediately developed a serious case of tuna fever as he always does about this time of year. Our schedules have yet to allow us to get out there but I’m betting Mike will be playing hooky next week to chase those fish.

I also had a couple great sessions off the end of Barnstable Harbor in the kayak in late June and early July. On a trip when I introduced the area to Kevin we paddled through literally hundreds if not thousands of stripers lazily swimming just below the surface. Those fish were impossible to catch until it began to get dark and we ended that session with a few nice ones, including a couple in the low to mid 30-inch range. Again, the 7-inch bone Hogy was the ticket.

This week after returning from the big tackle show in Las Vegas I borrowed Mike’s boat to take my nephew Kevin Gibson out to fish the Elizabeths. Kevin visits us about once a year and loves to fish. He caught a couple schoolies along Naushon but his biggest thrill was a 7-pound bluefish that gave him all he could handle in the strong current in Quicks Hole. Upon returning to Woods Hole, Kevin received plenty of cheers from the diners at Shuckers where Mike keeps the boat. He proudly displayed the fish to all and was positively beaming. It was the most enjoyable fishing trip I’ve had so far this year even though my total catch was one 24-inch schoolie.

Just yesterday we heard from expert guide Jaime Boyle on the Vineyard that he caught two big bonito the day before. That means “funny fish” fever will be rampant very soon. Things are looking good!

So don’t pay too much attention to the doom and gloom set of anglers. Get out there, have some fun, and remember: it’s a long cold winter. The fish are here and the second half of the season looks darned good!

Gene

July 21

Back from Las Vegas and the annual ICAST fishing tackle trade show. Now, we’ve had people who are only vaguely familiar with fishing ask us: what the heck is going on with a fishing show in the middle of the desert?!  Good question. The basic history of ICAST goes like this. The show was originally held in Chicago, as that location was probably deemed to be closest to most of the major players in the tackle industry. Then about 8 years ago it moved to Las Vegas Convention Center, a massive facility a couple blocks off the Strip. At that time and up until recently rooms were fairly cheap and my guess is that the people on charge at the American Sportfishing Association figured more people would go because of the other enticements of Vegas. My first ICAST was the last one in Chicago and I’ve been attending ever since. When I was with On The Water magazine I went as the editorial representative, looking for trends in the industry that might lead to interesting writing assignments for our free-lancers and to possibly shake out an outdoor writer or two. Last year and this year of course I attended with Mike representing Hogy Lures. We go because we like to observe trends, make contact with our vendors and generally get a feel of what we can do to improve and expand Hogy. In that regard the show is always good, although naturally the overwhelming focus is on freshwater bass tackle. This is far and away the largest segment of the fishing industry in this country.

ICAST is not a consumer show. In other words, attendees are buyers, designers, press representatives and of course manufacturer representatives. We do not display at the show, for many reasons. We may next year but that is still up in the air. This is the last year the show will be held in Las Vegas – next year it will be in Orlando. From a totally personal standpoint I will be sad to see the show leave Las Vegas because I do love that town! It’s not a place for everyone of course and you can easily see many of the worst aspects of our present culture on gaudy display, but there are many positives too: excellent restaurants, world class entertainment, and it is a common misconception that all there is to do in Vegas is gamble. Maybe those options will be available in Orlando but I doubt it. Anyway, regarding the show…

We saw some interesting things and innovative products like the new top of the line surf rods from St. Croix. Mike and I were hugely impressed by these sticks. They are light as a feather, have a strong butt section tapering to a fast tip that has just enough flex to cushion a snap cast but still deliver a bait or lure with authority. The grips have a knurled, wrapped rubber/plastic surface that feels incredibly comfortable. Some anglers may raise their eyebrows at the smaller than usual diameter guides than what is normally used on a spinning rod but the guys from St. Croix made a convincing case that there will actually be less line contact with these guides compared to the older, wide diameter type. My guess is that a couple are going to find their way into my garage and down to the beach in a very short amount of time. Mike feels that way too.

Quite a few products from Shimano won in various Best New Products categories. Some of their reels seemed very nice but being a conservative old New Englander when it comes to my fishing tackle, I have to wonder how long they will be on the market given Shimano’s past marketing strategies. They sure feel nice right out of the box though.

We of course took special interest in the soft plastics on display. Some nice stuff out there in terms of shelf appeal but the vast majority are machine-extruded, petroleum base products and to be honest, we saw very little that we considered new or innovative. I readily admit to being biased but it made us even more convinced that Hogy brand soft baits are unique and of the highest quality compared to anything else on the market.

Now the fun stuff. All work and no play makes the Hogy boys even duller than normal so… We did some fun stuff too, and the highlight was the Cirque du Soliel show “Love” at the Mirage where we stayed. Cirque shows are not for everyone because they can be a bit obtuse, to say the least, but you have to be blown away by the pure athletic ability of the performers. I’ve seem “O” twice and “Mystere” once but this show, based on the music of the Beatles, blew me away. The re-mixes of Beatles tunes, the seemless blending of performance, effect and music was like nothing I’ve ever seen. As a former professional musician and guitarist who grew up with those tunes and knows them intimately, I heard things I’ve never heard before. All I can say is – if you’re going to Vegas, DO NOT miss this show!

I won’t bore you with anymore of our adventures but suffice to say I’m gonna miss ICAST in Las Vegas. Gives me plenty to think about when I’m fishing though!

Gene

July 8

You may be old enough to remember a TV commercial that ran some years ago from Pepperidge Farms bread that had a tag line that went: “You get what you pay for!” I do believe that is true in most things (Hogy lures being a prime example!) but my problem is I’m a cheap Yankee sometimes. Or maybe I just expect too much from the things I buy, I don’t know. Fishing reels are a constant source of aggravation in that regard.

For many years I was a loyal buyer and user of Penn reels. I never cared for the old Z-series reels although I have to admit the things where built like tanks, easily serviced when needed and just about every shop along coastal New England stocked parts for them. I was more a fan of the SS series, initially the ones with metal bodies and later the updated graphite ones. Yes, there were some issues with the anti-reverse mechanism, especially on the SS5500, which was the reel I used most of the time, but it was easily and cheaply fixed. I try to rinse and lube my reels fairly regularly and I could count on many seasons from those 5500s. I still have a couple that are on my “guest” outfits – you know, the ones you’ll let your guests use if you don’t want them to use your fancier gear.

The problem with most Penn products is the retrieve speed is pretty slow, painfully so on the old Z-series. Most of the time I fish Hogys and other baits pretty slowly but there are times when you must take up line as quickly as possible to get contact with your bait and the Penns just didn’t do it. Even the newer Slammer series, which I thought were pretty nice when they came out didn’t hold up to the harsh saltwater environment as well as I’d hoped.

A couple years ago I finally took the advice of some of my fishing buddies and went over to Shimano reels. I bought two Stradics, one for my lighter outfit and a heavier one for the longer rod I use for surfcasting. They were silky smooth at first and I liked the fact that they were sold with a spare spool. Two problems though: the stems of both reels are too short and the bails hit my knuckles if I don’t hold the reels just right, and in just one season both of them developed a weird sound – not grinding really, but a buzzing that sounds something like plastic rubbing against metal. Many Shimanos have a small set screw on the underside of the body into which you are supposed to add a few drops of oil from time to time and I did this but the sound returned right away, and to make matters worse, if you put in too much oil it seeps out of the rotor and gets all over your hands. Both reels now reside in my garage.

While I was working for On The Water I was sent one of the strange U.S. Reel spinners. Maybe you’ve seen them. They are small, only suitable for light tackle work, and have a very wide and squat spool. The idea I guess is that they’ll cast farther with that spool design. Unfortunately, the line capacity is miniscule, which I proved when I was totally spooled by a substantial fish while fishing the reefs off Islamorada two years ago. I don’t know for sure what that fish was – I’m thinking maybe a kingfish or a barracuda – but the thing took about 150 yards of 12 pound-test in less that 30 seconds. By the way, in case you didn’t know -  the “U.S.” in the name stands for something like “Ultimate Spinning,” not what you may have assumed. The things are made in China.

This year I bought one of the new Penn Sargus reels. I have fished it extensively for the last two months and it has subdued stripers up to the low 30-pound class and more than a few 20s, plus countless smaller fish. I like the simplicity of the design, it is light, the drag is pretty strong and the price was right at less than $100. It features stainless parts and a cool perforated spool. Now the bad. In the last week a small plastic washer between the grip part of the handle and the shaft has worn away. Now the grip moves back and forth and while I don’t think it will fall off it is very annoying and turning the grip is becoming more difficult.

Now feature this: Penn has a policy of not delivering parts for new models until about a year after they’re introduced. You can’t even buy a spare spool for the Sargus reels, something that I consider a necessity in my tackle bag. Arrgghh! I guess I should just bring it back to the shop where I purchased it, but what a pain in the butt! So I guess I’ll just have to keep applying a drop or two of oil and try to ignore the problem.

So that gets me back to: You get what you pay for. All the reels I’ve mentioned cost less than $150. That’s not much I guess when compared to the Sustains, Zee Bass and Van Stalls but it ain’t pocket change either. I fish my stuff hard but I take care of it too. Why oh why can’t the reel companies come up with a decent reel with a reliable drag and anti-reverse, one that will hold up for a few seasons?

Gene 

July 3

Applying what you’ve learned in different fishing situations, even using entirely different methods can save the day from time to time. I think every fisherman is guilty of falling into patterns and while there is a reason this happens (because they’ve worked in the past!) you have to keep an open mind. Last night was a perfect example.

The wind was strong so I decided to bag the idea of paddling out to Devil’s Foot and instead trudge out to the mouth of my favorite marsh on the upper Cape. The tide was coming in strong and with the southwest wind I was pretty sure I’d have to deal with a lot of weed in the water. Not my favorite conditions, and add to that the fact the this spot has been a disappointment so far this season. That’s OK though. It’s my favorite place because it is beautiful, close to my home (there’s that gas price thing again) and I have many fond memories of fishing sessions there with my friend Dave Peros and others; still nights when the creek was filled with big stripers sipping bait; watching Fourth of July fireworks far away across Buzzards Bay; being alone there with my thoughts the week after my mother passed away…anyway, it’s a special place.

Sure enough, the water was weedy; not as bad as I’ve seen it but still a nuisance. I made sure the 7/0 Owner offset worm hook was rigged as well as possible in my 7-inch bone Hogy, rigged Texas style with the hook point laying against the body of the bait to avoid picking up weed. I started just outside the creek where a very nice channel has developed in the sandy bottom over the last few years. On my second cast a nice schoolie hit, a fish that was about 26 inches long. But on subsequent casts I weeded up almost immediately and it became a game of watching for clumps of weed being swept in by the hard current and timing my casts to land between them. Not an easy thing! I caught a couple more fish but then the action died so I moved inside.

I know from past experience that fish set up where the creek widens a bit, just past the rip at the narrow entrance. First cast – boom! Nice fish but it missed the Hogy. Second cast – same thing. I squinted into the setting sun on the third cast and noticed the Hogy was skittering across the surface as soon as it hit the water, caused by the strong wind and current pushing the line, which developed a big curve during the cast. Time to add a bit of weight. I stuck a couple of our Hogy insert weights into the bait and that helped the bait to sink a bit. Another couple casts, a bump or two, but I knew something was wrong. Then I flashed back to how I used to fish this spot with my fly rod.

The trick then was to employ a “dead drift” – a technique common in fly-fishing where the angler casts, then immediately mends line and allows the fly to drift with no imparted action. This is somewhat counter intuitive with soft plastics because what makes them so sexy in the water is the action the angler imparts with the rod. It was worth a try though.

On the next cast I fired the Hogy directly across the current, let it sink for a couple seconds, then reeled a few turns to be sure I was tight to the lure and let it drift, pointing the rod toward where I thought the bait was to maximize the dead-drift presentation. As soon as the Hogy started to accelerate across the flow a nice striper hit, crashed on the surface and virtually hooked itself. I landed it as fast as I could because every second in the water meant more weed was collecting on the line. The fish was in the same class as the ones I’d caught outside but very pale, and indication this was one of the stripers that will set up shop in the creek all summer, and become very challenging to catch.

I managed to repeat the dead drift presentation successfully a few more times before the water became so deep that the fish spread out and were no longer in the little seam on the other side of the flow. I know if I’d stayed until well after dark when the tide reversed I probably would have caught a few more but I decided to head home.

Another item for Gene’s fishing data bank. Applying a fly-fishing technique to spin fishing with soft baits. Cool.

Hope everyone has a happy and restful Fourth of July!

Gene

July 1

Oh, how I love fishing in the fog! Sunday morning I managed to drag myself out of bed a little before 4 a.m. and headed over to Old Harbor in Sandwich. Although I’ve fished the beach area near the town lot earlier this season, this was the first time I’ve taken the kayak and launched in the creek, paddled out to the mouth and gone ashore to fish the beach, entrance and inside. It’s something I used to do quite a bit when I was primarily a fly fisherman because the fish are often very close to the edges and with my average casting skills I could reach them. Plus it’s a very cool place to fish after dark. It’s one of those places with a clear sand bottom in most areas that seem lifeless in the light of day but can be covered with feeding stripers after dark or at dawn.

That was what I found in the pea soup fog. Fish chasing small bait here and there but with a hit or a hookup on just about every cast I knew there were many more fish than were showing. I caught a half dozen or so, all in the low to mid 20-inch range, all on the 7” bone Hogy, then I made the longest cast I could to reach a sand flat near where the channel divides. The bait was crashed even before I could tighten up and amazingly the fish hooked itself. I tightened up and the drag began singing – this was not one of the little guys. After a few minutes of back and forth I got a good look at it. Nice. Then the challenge was to figure out how to get it up on the bank, the edge of which was a good three feet above the water. I finally decided to kneel down on the edge, try to grab the leader (30 lb. test fluorocarbon) and hope my 12 lb. test running line didn’t break. I managed to do that and laid the fish down in the grass. From the butt of my rod to the stripping guide is 37 inches and this fish passed that by an inch or so. I thought about taking it home for the grill but decided to release it. Don’t ask me why. Laziness I suspect.

On the other side of the creek I could see another angler in a kayak. He paddled over and said: “Damn nice fish! I got a few smaller ones but I saw about a half dozen that size over the sand. They were spooky though.”

The fog was burning off and the sun was beginning to break through so I headed out to the ocean side of the marsh. There were some very large breakers pounding the beach and it was fun to get my surfcasting chops back, timing my casts so the Hogy would land behind the waves. I caught a couple more fish, then called it a morning. Met a nice guy with two beautiful dogs, a Gordon Setter and an Irish Setter. Also met a guy who was fishing along the beach with a heavy surf rod, wire leader and a huge Storm shad. I set him up with a fluoro leader and some Hogys.

It was a beautiful morning, a classic June Cape Cod day.

Gene

June 27

Are you feeling it? Gas prices, I mean. I know I’m factoring in this issue more than ever before regarding when and where I fish. I drive a three-year-old, 4-wheel drive Ford Ranger truck that gets a pathetic 17mpg. I love the convenience of being able to just slide my kayak in the back and strap it in rather than having to wrestle it up onto roof racks as my friends do with theirs. Plus, it’s a truck! No worries about sand on the floor or climbing in with wet waders. But even with only having to commute a few miles back and forth to Hogy Land each day and restricting my daily fishing jaunts to places on the Upper Cape I’m spending $60+ a week on gas, and it hurts. The problem is, as with many people who bought trucks and SUVs in recent years, I’m still “upside down” on the amount I owe for my truck. Who knows if the thing will be worth anything at all in three years when the loan is paid off? I guess we just have to hope that smart engineering types are busy working out new, efficient vehicles for the future. I have a hard time imagining turning a Prius into a fishing machine! And if you have any doubt about gas prices affecting the boating industry, take a look at the boats listings on Craigs List. Sure, some of the most desirable boats are still bringing premium prices, but if you’re trying to sell a 10-year-old Bayliner cup holder with a big engine, God help you.

Fortunately, it’s only a five-minute drive from my house to the ramp on West Falmouth harbor.  Not only do I know every inch of the harbor but it holds at least schoolie bass for most of the season, except perhaps during the warmest parts of late July through August. Even then, if I’m willing to get up pre-dawn or fish until well after dark I’m pretty sure I’ll catch something. So yesterday after work I considered driving over to Sandwich where there would be an early evening high tide, prefect for paddling out to the mouth of Old Harbor, but my wallet protested so down to WFH I went. My friend Jim met me with his kayak and we set out.

The gnats were waiting but fortunately there was a slight breeze so we didn’t have to grease up with bug dope immediately. Now, here’s something instructive. When fishing harbors during the dropping tide the bigger fish are usually found near the mouth. This is logical because prey items are being swept out with the tide. We paddled out to the mouth and started catching small schoolies, fish that were what I’ve come to call “embarrassingly small” but hey, we were hooking up and it was fun for a little while. Boredom set in pretty quickly though so we paddled out of the harbor and tried a few casts along Little Island. No love there, plus it was a bit bumpy and the water was filled with weed.

Back into the harbor and risking the curse of  Leaving Fish To Find Fish, we decided to beach the kayaks at the bend on the end of Chapaquoit and try the deep hole there. I was disappointed to find no fish at all in the hole, which is usually the most reliable place in the entire harbor. Then a bit of inspiration struck.

I walked a hundred yards or so over to the next point. I know there is a small channel that runs along the shore there, plus a flat further out that often holds fish in low light conditions (it was getting toward dark). Sure enough, I started getting hits and fish on just about every cast. Initially they wanted the bubblegum 7-inch Hogy but when Jim came over and started catching on the bone 7-inch the fish seemed to have no interest in my BG 7-inch. I switched over to the bone and the fun started again. It wasn’t easy though – the fish were hitting the end of the baits and missing the hook more often than not. Even so we managed at least a dozen fish each, the biggest two or three very close to legal size. Only one or two were in the class of the babies out at the mouth of the harbor. Bigger fish and more fish up inside, at the bottom of the tide, in relatively shallow water. Hmm. There goes my theory of the bigger fish being at the mouth during a dropping tide.

Jim left before me and I caught a few more fish, then paddled back to the ramp because the gnats were winning the battle with the fly dope (when I got home and looked in the mirror, I looked like someone had liberally sprinkled my face, head and neck with pepper). It was just about fully dark, the wind had totally died but the sky was amazing – a line of solid, low gray clouds were moving across Buzzards Bay, the edge of which was like a solid line drawn by God across the sky for miles and miles. A photography book called “Cape Light” which came out a few years ago would have such a scene. Of course, for the first time in two weeks I had left my camera at home. It was spectacular scene, almost surreal.

Gene

June 24

Usually I’m pretty cautious when I’m kayaking. There have been a few times I’ve pressed my luck in a hard tide and strong wind and paddled to places that required a long, tiring trip back to where I launched but those times I can count on one hand over the eight years I’ve owned my kayak. Sometimes though making the decision to fish or not from the kayak are tough and sometimes I do not in the words of the knight in that Indiana Jones movie, “…choose wisely.” Last night was such a time.

I kept clicking on various weather radar sites all yesterday afternoon to see the progression of thunderstorms across Connecticut and Rhode Island. Yup, they were coming our way, but would they fade out when they reached Buzzards Bay (as is often the case) or pass to our south or north? The air was thick all day – it sure felt like something was brewing.

So when it came time to leave Hogy Land and head home I opted to just head for the barn and skip an evening of fishing in spite of hearing of some good striper action in the Pocasset area via my buddy Tom Borning. Oh well, I guess I can skip ONE night of fishing, right? Wrong. I got home, checked the internet again and it seemed like the storms would bypass the Cape shore of Buzzards Bay. I hopped back in the truck but by the time I got to the end of my street I decided to skip the longer ride over to the area Tom wrote me about and just launch in West Falmouth. I knew there were stripers in the harbor, maybe not the bigger ones I’d heard about but the paddle back would be shorter than at the other spot in case things turned dicey. It was spitting rain but the really dark clouds seemed to be well to the south. I unloaded the kayak, doused myself with bug spray because the gnats didn’t seem to be affected by the rain at all and prepared to head out.

I guess I should have paid more attention to the two teenagers who were furiously paddling kayaks toward the ramp. They beached their boats, hopped out, looked at the old guy and said, “Uh…there’s a lot of thunder and lightning out there and it looks like it’s coming this way.”

Hey, young ones, do you realize who you’re talking to?! I was kayaking when you were riding a tricycle, you young whipper snappers! I didn’t say that of course. “Pride goeth before a fall,” some smart person once said. I conveniently forgot that of course. So off I went.

Now, I know I don’t have eight letters behind my name like a certain scientist/angler I know who scoffs at the notion of weather (fronts, low pressure, high pressure) having any affect on fishing. All I have to go on is 40 years of fishing experience. That experience has shown over and over again, in both fresh and saltwater, that fish can go on an absolute feeding binge when weather is moving in. Such was the case in the hole inside Chapaquoit. The wind was kicking up but stripers were splashing here and there – the first real surface action I’ve seen in that spot this season. Woo-ha!!!

OK, so the black clouds were closer and there was the occasional rumble to the south, but I quickly beached the kayak (which I have decided to name Old Faithful), waded in and began casting the bubblegum 7-inch Hogy that happened to be on the end of my line. Sure enough, it was a hit on every cast, sometimes four or five hits before I hooked up. Stupid fishing, really – it was that easy. More rumbles. A flash of lightning. The wind was getting stronger. Still the fish hit again and again.

All fishermen get to a point in a session like this that we settle into a rhythm and while the thrill is still there, the urgency is not. I reached that point in about ten minutes and began paying more attention to the weather. No denying it now – a good shot of rain, lightning and thunder was headed my way. I might be a little crazy but I’d like to think I’m not stupid. But damn it, the fish were still there and feeding hard. Maybe I’ll just drag the kayak up on the sand and hide under the dock, I thought. It has to pass through, right? So I did just that, but then paranoia struck deep (apologies to Buffalo Springfield). I squatted under the dock and realized that the pilings were reinforced with iron bars that extended above the top of the wooden rail just above my head. I think they’re called “lightning rods” but I can’t be sure…

Enough. Time to beat feet outa here. The wind was getting stronger, the sky was getting darker but I hopped in the kayak and started back to the ramp. Now, the open section of the harbor I had to cross isn’t all that big but it seemed enormous at that moment and I stroked HARD to get at least into the mooring field, reasoning that all those nice sailboats with the tall masts would surely attract any lightning bolts before little ol’ me would.

It’s strange what goes through your mind at a time like this. I am a walking, breathing example of the adage “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” and one of the tidbits of knowledge that was tucked away in my old brain went along the lines of one reason people get struck by lightning is because all humans emit a low level electrical field. OK, I’m thinking as I dig for the ramp, be cool Gene, don’t emit any more electricity than you have to. Bogus of course, but it kept my mind off my poor old back, which was beginning to protest the deep, rapid strokes I was using.

Lightning was frequent and using the 6 seconds between the flash and the boom to gauge how many miles away a storm is (I was down to a count of 4) I finally made it to the ramp, hopped out and raced to get the truck. As I backed down the ramp the skies positively opened, thunder crashed and I strapped Old Faithful in as quickly as I could. When I pulled into the driveway and got out, soaking wet but fortunately not crispy, I tried to be cool about the whole thing as Kathy shook her head watching me shed my waders and rain jacket.

The weather forecast for the rest of the week calls for the possibility of afternoon thunderstorms. I’ll be watching the radar this afternoon and hope to head over to the spot Tom recommended if it makes sense. And making sense will be a higher priority than it was yesterday.

Gene 

June 20

Yesterday evening I headed for Stoney Beach in Woods Hole to fish the backside of Penzance for the first time this season, via kayak of course because this place is ultra private and shore access is out of the question. However, when I got there the spirit didn’t move me. Know what I mean? You get to a place you intend to fish and somehow the vibe just isn’t there. So I headed back to West Falmouth Harbor and launched at the town ramp.

As I paddled out toward the entrance to the harbor I began thinking about fly-fishing. For about 10 years or so, coinciding with the resurgence of the striper population in the early 1990s and continuing until a couple years ago I fished with flies almost exclusively (although I wasn’t adverse to throwing eels and big swimming plugs along the Elizabeths with my friend Dave Peros from time to time). It was all about matching the gear to the size fish I expected to catch. It was just plain more fun to catch schoolies on the fly than on the heavy spinning gear I was used to using. Plus there were times when a Clouser, Deceiver or Brook’s Blonde was much more effective than any of the more conventional saltwater lures. I won’t deny there was a certain aspect of exclusivity involved – it takes more skill to cast and present a fly than to heave out a Bomber and I took pride in knowing I was pretty good at it. Plus there is an undeniable thrill in catching a fish on a fly you tied. The other thrill that can only be realized with a fly rod is the immediate connection to the fish, that is, having the fish “in your hand” with the fly line between your fingers. This is just not there when a spinning or conventional casting reel is involved.

In the last two years I’ve found myself fly fishing less and less and as I paddled out last night I tried to figure out why. I decided it was nothing more than the fact that I just don’t like the inconvenience of fly-fishing in salt water. Or maybe I’m just getting old and lazy?  When you fly fish in salt water you must constantly deal with casting angles and how they relate to the prevailing wind. I used to plan my fishing for the day based for the most part on wind direction. It’s no fun to try to punch out anything like a long cast into the wind. I’m a right-handed caster and a breeze from my right meant ducking as the fly whizzed by – or getting whacked in the head with a Clouser traveling at approximately the speed of a BB! No thanks.

Then there was the issue of casting distance. OK, I admit it. I am incapable of  “hero casts” like some anglers I know. Under perfect conditions I can bang out a 70-foot cast with my 9-weight but how often do you fish in perfect conditions? Now factor in heavy weighted fly lines that are no fun to use no matter how good a caster you may be. That dishpan strapped around my waist? Don’t miss that thing. Paying $4 or $5 for a tapered leader? Spending the entire winter tying flies for the upcoming season? Well, that was fun for a few years but then it became a chore.

So I suspect that even if I hadn’t discovered the fun of using soft plastics on light spinning gear I might have given up fly fishing anyway. Fortunately, I did begin using a heavy freshwater rod with small soft plastics as I was transitioning away from the fly thing, before I began working for Mike at Hogy Lures. It was a blast and even though I got the occasional sneer from the guy outfitted with a 10-foot surf stick and huge reel I knew I was onto something.

I’ve refined my gear quite a bit in the last two years and I can say without hesitation that I get 95% of the thrill of fly-fishing with the rod and reel set up I use now. My primary rod and reel are a 7 1/2-foot Star Lite spinning rod, rated for 8- to 16-pound line, and this year I purchased one of the new Penn Sargus SG4000 reels, which has performed very well so far. I was using this set-up on the first evening of the epic striper fishing of a couple weeks ago when I landed a 32-pound striper (and four in the low to mid 20-pound class).

That 5% that I still do miss is that immediate connection to the fish that I get when fly-fishing. No matter how light my spinning gear is, there is still a reel between me and the fish. I do miss the feel of the line between my fingers suddenly going tight when a bass takes a fly. But I’ll get over it.

With all that in mind, I stopped at place in West Falmouth harbor where the tidal flow divides and floods both north and west into the two main parts of the harbor. Behind the narrow spit that marks the place the water divides is a very small, flat backwater. Some years ago I discovered there are often bass in this unremarkable little pool and they hardly ever show. A fly cast back there would often result in a half dozen or more fish before they scooted back into the deeper water. Such was the case last night. Using a 6-inch bubblegum color Skinny Hogy I nailed four fat schoolies in that water. It was kind of funny to have the fish take the Hogy and then porpoise along the surface, almost surprised that something had figured out that they were there.

I then paddled across to the edge of a marsh where I know there is a slight channel between the marsh and a large flat. It’s a spot where I’ve taken many fish on the fly rod because the fish use that slightly deeper water to move from the outer harbor to the south basin during an incoming tide. It was also a place that was conducive to casting when the prevailing southwest breeze was blowing as it was last night. Sure enough, the fish were there but using my light spinning outfit I could over much more of the length of the channel without having to reposition myself as I would with the fly rod as the fish moved in. Less moving meant more fishing and covering more water. As the famous fly fisherman Lefty Kreh has said when talking about false casting (and how many people do it way too much): no fish was ever caught with the fly in the air. Standing in one spot I hit water in front of me, 100 feet to my left and 100 feet to my right and everything in between. Another half dozen healthy schoolies caught, one of which was close to legal size. All of them fell for the bubblegum 6-inch Skinny.

Am I done with fly-fishing? Certainly not, at least in freshwater. An old college buddy who lives in Pennsylvania but is a hardcore Celtics fan called last night and we talked for a long time about the great victory by the Celts. Then we had plans to get together for some fly-fishing in the hills of northern Pennsylvania where he introduced me to fly fishing about 30 years ago. I can’t wait.

Everything in its time and place.

Gene   

June 15

After the epic fishing of the week before it was back to the small stuff all last week. Not for lack of trying – I hit a lot of spots and normally I would be reasonably satisfied with the results but getting a taste of multiple 20-pounders and a couple larger makes those schoolies seem a bit less exciting to say the least. That’s fishin’!

Started the week with a jaunt out to Devil’s Foot. It was a beautiful evening and I pretty much had the place to myself. A few small schoolies caught but no sign of the larger fish that people have been catching out in the Gut.

The next day it was kayak time again, this time in Quissett harbor. It was a mix of bass and bluefish at the entrance to the harbor, basically it went like this: catch a schoolie, sacrifice a Hogy to a bluefish, catch a schoolie, sacrifice a Hogy, and so on. The best part was discovering a very small cobblestone area where I could go ashore on the ultra private south side of the harbor and fish. Keeping in mind my shore fisherman’s mantra, Never Draw Attention To Yourself, I did pretty well there with small fish.

On Friday after work Kevin Blinkoff and myself headed over to my favorite marsh off the end of Barnstable. Kevin quickly learned how true my e-mail to him of last week was, which was along the lines of four fish caught, four hundred spooked. We couldn’t paddle more than 50 feet without spooking schools of fish that seemed to be just lazing around just under the surface. Some of the swirls were substantial – these were not just low 20-inch schoolies. The frustrating part was that in spite of throwing everything we could think of and trying every retrieve (and no retrieve at all) the fish had a serious case of lockjaw. We went ashore to fish the entrance of the next creek and it was the same story. Compounding the frustration was the gnats – bazillions of them! We wondered aloud just what the little bastages eat when there aren’t fishermen to chew on?

Finally we accepted the fact the bugs were winning and began paddling back. By then it was getting dark, the water was flat calm and we continued to spook dozens and dozens of stripers. But then I noticed a subtle difference. Here and there were swirls unrelated to our presence – maybe the fish were finally deciding to eat? I began casting and on the second cast hooked up with a big striper, not big by the standards of the week before but a definite challenge in the kayak. It took plenty of drag but was finally subdued and I lipped it and held it up for Kevin to take a picture. It was definitely keeper size, maybe pushing 30 inches. Kevin began catching a few fish and so did I. I finished off with another heavy bass, this one even a bit bigger than the first. We could see the feeding was rapidly diminishing though and headed back to the launching area where we found the gnats had been replaced by their buddies, the mosquitos. Oh well, that’s June fishing! A good outing overall and I was happy to introduce Kevin to the Barnstable harbor fishing experience. I hope we can get back there on the next set of good tides.

This morning I headed out early in spite of not feeling too well thanks to a questionable burrito I ate in Boston yesterday. I fished Chappy beach and inside West Falmouth harbor, caught a couple real dinks and called it a day. Maybe later.

Gene 

June 7

Most fishermen I know, whether boat guys or those who prefer solid ground like me (most of the time) would agree that, all things being equal, a solitary fishing experience beats fishing in a mob. At the risk of sounding like the over the hill hippie type I am, when I’m fishing by myself it becomes an almost Zen-like experience. I once tried to explain to a non-fisherman just why I love it so much and the only thing I could come up with was this. It is the only time in my life I feel totally focused yet totally relaxed at the same time. I know that fishing is many different things to different people and some love to attach a competitive aspect to it whenever they can. I happen to abhor competitive fishing, but hey, that’s just me. I know many love it and in fact can’t imagine fishing without some sort of competitive aspect. More power to ‘em.

So with that in mind I loaded the kayak in the back of the truck last night with intentions to fish Monk’s Park in Monument Beach. My reasoning was that there was virtually no chance of other people being there and it’s close enough to the area where we’ve been catching huge bass all week so maybe there was a chance of some decent stripers being there. I splashed the kayak at 5:30 a.m. and headed across to fish the opposite shore. As has been the case all week, the weather was perfect: fog and light to moderate breeze for the southwest.

It was dead low tide – no surprise – and after a half hour of casting and catching just two tiny stripers, I knew what I had to do. I jumped back in the kayak, reloaded it and headed for “the spot.”

I was conflicted with the decision. There just had to be people there considering the events of the last week. To fish in a crowd or not, that was the question. I made a quick judgment. If I got there and saw people on the jetties I would walk down the beach in the opposite direction and give it a try. There might not be as many fish but it was worth it.

Coming down the access road I could see one figure on the first jetty. Oh well. But when I pulled into the parking area there were no other vehicles! Sweet! I made a quick inventory of my plug bag and headed over.

When I reached the beach I could see another couple of anglers in the very small area. Time to walk away from them down the beach. But wait. What the heck are all those gulls doing sitting on the beach and on the rocks at the end? Follow your instincts. The boats were around that area but still scattered. The rip was just starting to make up. Things were looking better and better.

On the first cast by the rocks I had a swirl, on the next a solid hook up on my bone 7-inch Hogy. It turned out to be another 20-pounder and just about the instant I released it the craziness started. Fish began breaking all along the beach and out in the channel. Mackerel were flying into the air trying to escape. The boats guys saw what was happening and charged into the area. I continued to cast and hook up immediately. A couple more 20-pounders, then I watched in amazement as a terrified little mack skipped toward me with a huge bass in pursuit. The bass caught the mackerel a rod’s length away. It turned sideways in front of me. It was at least 30 pounds.

Then stupidity reared its ugly head. Three young tattoo covered yahoos zoomed right in on me in their beat up Bayliner (why is it that the ugliest boats seem to hold the rudest fishermen?) and began casting furiously. Of course two of them hooked up – how could you not? – and I hate to wait agonizing minutes for them to drift out of the rip.

I put on a new Hogy (after catching at least eight fish on the first one, including the two 20s – when we say Hogys are tough, we mean it!) and let it fly. About half way through the retrieve there was a crash and I was tight. I knew this was a big fish.

The fight was not that long. Shorter than it should be I realized as it came close. Not a good thing – that fish was still green. Sure enough, it came just about to my feet and turned sideways, gave a huge tail slap and sprayed my with water, and snap – it was gone.

Now, I know water exaggerates the size of fish and fishermen are prone to embellish their catches from time to time, but as God is my witness, that fish was in the high 40-inch range and had to have weighed well over 40 pounds. My best bass ever is 42 pounds and I’ve caught a decent number between 35 and 40 pounds so I think I can make an accurate guess in this case. It may well have been the biggest bass I’ve ever caught. If I’d caught it.

I guess if this had transpired before that fishing I’ve enjoyed for the last week I would have been seriously depressed but that was not the case. I lifted the rod to figure out what happened. On the end of my 30-pound test fluorocarbon leader was my snap, twisted open and bent into a mini pretzel. I cut it off and will keep it right here on my desk as a reminder of what almost happened.

After tying on a new snap I caught another 20-pounder and a couple smaller fish. But by then the fleet had grown to more than two dozen boats of all sizes, from little 10-foot jon boats totally inappropriate for fishing in the mouth of the canal to big 36-foot lobster boats, all with anglers trolling or casting. A few rods were bent but it was clear the action was fading so I headed home.

So I consider this a double win. I found the solitude I was seeking, on the shore at least, and caught more big stripers to continue what for me has been an epic week of fishing, one I will never forget.

Gene